


Every Inch is Black and Blue

by poisontaster



Series: No Office Romance [3]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Bruises, Claiming Bites, Episode Related, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Coital, Undecided Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-31
Updated: 2009-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-03 09:24:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5285405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/pseuds/poisontaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after Ep. 5.11, "Retaliation". <i>"I don't know what you want out of this.  We've both been very careful not to talk about that, I think."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Inch is Black and Blue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lillian13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillian13/gifts).



"Do you have to go?" He hates asking the question, but there's a part of him that hopes it'll be soon because he's in a losing battle against sleep and he doesn't want to go before Aaron does. He doesn't like falling asleep and then waking up alone.

Aaron glances sideways at him, faint guilt creasing his face—an expression Spencer's become intimately acquainted with. It's not as though Spencer expected any different; Haley may be gone from between them, but that just means Aaron is Jack's only parent, a double load of responsibility only slightly different than before.

"I…" All at once, Aaron rolls over, onto his side, his fingers unerring finding the ticklish-pleasurable spots on Spencer's ribs. "Eventually," Aaron admits, a different answer than Spencer was anticipating. "I don't like for Jack to wake up and not find me at home." His fingertips tangle on the nub of Spencer's nipple, tracing the arc of the areole and Spencer has to focus a whole lot harder on what Aaron's saying. "But…I talked to Jessica. About us," Aaron elucidates, sounding nervous, which is not an emotion Spencer ever associates with him. "Is that all right?"

Spencer pushes and wiggles up on his elbows, wanting that extra bit of height to look at Aaron. "Sure," Spencer says, sounding pretty damn uncertain himself. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Aaron's hair is fluffed up from its neat, precisely parted style, crested like a bird's. Spencer's torn between wanting to smooth it down into its familiar lines or muss it further. _Agent Hotchner's sex hair,_ he thinks, amused, closing his eyes and tilting his face up toward the ceiling. He wonders if he's ever been this adolescently infatuated with anyone.

"I don't know what you want out of this," Aaron says, mercifully derailing Spencer's train of thought before it gets any more maudlin. "We've both been very careful not to talk about that, I think."

Spencer's own hair slaps him in the cheek as he turns his head, surprised. "I thought what I wanted was obvious," he says, spitting away the loose ends of his hair.

"Spencer…" Aaron's breath catches on a laugh as he flicks the remainder of Spencer's hair back from his cheek. "You're a lot of things, but obvious isn't really one of them. Maybe you're the one who wants this all to be a secret—middle-aged lover with baggage and a kid, married to the job…I'm no catch, God knows."

"I'm a socially awkward, self professed geek with a schizophrenic mother and a penchant for injuring myself," Spencer replies, laughing a little himself at the idea that he somehow _wins_ over Aaron on the 'catch' scale. "By the absolute best reckoning, I think that puts us at a dead heat."

Whatever else he was going to say is interrupted by Aaron turning Spencer's face toward him for a kiss, slow and exploratory, less urgent—frantic—than previous, but no less hot for it.

"So we deserve each other, is what you're saying?" Aaron teases, when they come apart, just as slowly as they'd meshed together.

The idea that he could _deserve_ Aaron, that he could somehow merit this thing—person—that he's been wanting so desperately, for so long, skirts too close to territory that Spencer had struck off his internal maps years ago. _Here be dragons._

So instead of answering such a ridiculously and obviously loaded question, Spencer puts his hand on Aaron's upraised shoulder and pushes him back, flat to the mattress, kissing his way through the crisp hair on Aaron's chest. Aaron's nipples are so insensitive as to be practically inert, but the soft, wet circle of a tongue around the oval of his navel, on the other hand…

"Gnngh!" Aaron bucks up, fingers slipping familiarly into Spencer's hair, his grip somewhere between drawing Spencer away and holding him where he is. Spencer smiles into Aaron's skin, glancing up through his eyelashes and trailing strands of hair both to watch Aaron watching him. Another slow lap around Aaron's navel, Aaron's abs clenched and quivering, before Spencer moves lower still, paralleling the line of Aaron's cock without actually touching it with anything more substantial than the hair on his head. Aaron shifts on the sheets without really moving, the hoarse blurt of his breath rising above the dry rasp of skin on cotton.

Spencer closes his eyes and presses his mouth—lips and teeth—against the soft skin of Aaron's groin, breathing in a smell that's become almost as familiar to him as his own. When Haley was alive, when this was adultery and so much more secret and sordid, they had to be careful, so careful. Careful not to leave any evidence, any sign. And though Spencer had bore the bruises of rough handling more than once—or even not so rough, he bruised easily—he'd had to be careful never to leave a mark on Aaron's skin. Nothing to show he'd been there, that—for whatever brief period of time—Aaron had been his.

Spencer had convinced himself over time that it didn't matter, that he wasn't resentful, that he understood and accepted his place in Aaron's life, he feels a little spurt of something now. Something a little wild, a little like anger. The desire to bite and suck and chew until he leaves black pain on white skin. Until there's a mark that says, _Spencer was here_ , for anyone to see.

Aaron makes that same inarticulate groan when Spencer bites down, palm spreading out across the back of Spencer's head, cupping him there. "Yeah," Aaron says, a moment later, breathless. He writhes against the mattress and Spencer shoulders Aaron's thighs wider, pins him with a hand to either side of his narrow pelvic bone. Spencer sucks hard. He knows it hurts, he can feel how much it hurts in the way Aaron vibrates under him, the stifled, ragged surge of Aaron's breath, but Aaron doesn't try to pull away. Just the opposite, pushing up to Spencer's mouth. "Do it," Aaron says gutturally, but it's not like Spencer needs the encouragement at that point.

"Turn on the light," Aaron says, what seems like a long time later, when Spencer pulls back and wipes his mouth.

The mark on Aaron's hip is big enough, dark enough, to be seen in the street lamp twilight; in the harsh yellow of the lamp, it's much worse, blotchy and dark as a plum. Spencer's breath stutters out, startled. "Oh, Jeez. H-hotch…Aaron, I'm sorry."

Aaron hitches up on his elbow to look at it himself. He doesn't look nearly as stricken as Spencer feels. "Don't be." Aaron strokes across the bruise's margins experimentally then presses into its black center with sudden viciousness, the pulse in his throat jumping. "God, that's hot. I'll be limping tomorrow."

"And I'll know the reason why," Spencer says slowly, envisioning it. Tomorrow's going to be a tough day to get through. Garcia already thinks he's acting strange.

"I don't have to go for a while yet," Aaron says, reaching for him. "Come here."


End file.
